“Of course.” Em smiles. “And he didn’t seem too disappointed in me, either, thank goodness.”
“How could he be?” Em shines so radiantly today in her drab brown plainclothes that I imagine she was impossible to look away from last night in her yel ow dress. “So, he’s handsome. But what exactly does he look like?” I’m embarrassed to hear a hint of jealousy in my voice, plain and clear.
No one gathered around me to find out what Xander was like. There was no mystery because they already knew.
Em is kind enough to ignore it. “Actual y, a little like Xander ...” she begins, and then she breaks off.
I fol ow her gaze to where Xander stands a few feet away from us, holding his foilware on a tray and looking stricken. Did he hear the jealousy in my voice when Em described her Match?
What is wrong with me?
I try to cover it up. “We’re talking about Em’s Match. He looks like you.”
Xander recovers quickly. “So he’s unbelievably handsome.” He sits down next to me but he doesn’t look in my direction. I’m embarrassed. He definitely heard me.
“Of course,” Em laughs. “I don’t know why I was so worried!” She blushes a little, probably remembering the night in the music hal , and looks at Xander. “It al turned out perfectly—the way you said it would.”
“I wish they stil let you print out a picture right away,” I say. “I want to see what he looks like.” Em describes her Match and tel s us facts about Dalen that she learned from her microcard, but I’m too distracted to hear much. I worry that I’ve hurt Xander and I want him to look at me or take my hand, but he does neither of those things.
Em grabs my arm on our way out of the meal hal . “Thank you so much for letting me borrow the compact. I think it helped to have something to hold onto, you know?”
I nod, agreeing.
“Ky gave it back to you this morning, didn’t he?”
“No.” My heart drops. Where is my compact? Why doesn’t Em have it?
“He didn’t?” Em’s face pales.
“No,” I say. “Why does he have it?”
“I saw him on the air train after the Match Banquet. He was coming home late from work. I wanted you to have the compact back as soon as possible.” Em takes a deep breath. “I knew you’d see Ky at hiking before you’d see me here, and I couldn’t bring it straight back to your house because I was worried I’d be late for curfew.”
“Hiking was canceled this morning because of the weather.”
“It was?” Hiking is the one summer leisure activity that absolutely can’t be done in inclement weather. Even swimming can be done in the indoor pool. Em looks sick. “I should have realized that. But why didn’t he find some way to get it to you? He knew how important it was. I made sure to tel him.”
Good question. But I don’t want this to ruin Em’s big moment. I don’t want her to worry. “I’m sure he gave it to Aida to give to my mother or father,” I say, trying to sound lighthearted. “Or he’l give it to me tomorrow at hiking.”
“Don’t worry,” Xander says, looking directly at me now. He reaches out with his words to cross the smal divides that keep coming between us.
“You can trust Ky.”
CHAPTER 15
As I walk to the air-train stop the next morning, things feel crisp, less weighted. The cool of the night accomplished what the rain yesterday did not; the air feels fresh. New. The sun blinking through the last of the clouds dares the birds to sing, and they do. It dares me to let the light in, and I do.
Who wouldn’t rage against the death of something so beautiful?
I’m not the only one who feels it. At hiking, Ky finds me standing at the front of the group, just as the Officer begins speaking. Ky presses the compact into my hand. I feel the touch of his fingers and I think he leaves them there, on mine, the smal est bit longer than necessary.
I put the compact into my pocket.
Why here? I wonder, stil tingling. Why not give it to me at home?
I’m glad I lent it to Em, but I’m glad I have it back, too. The compact is the one link that I have left to my grandparents and I vow never to let it out of my hands again.
I think maybe Ky wil wait for me to go in the woods, but he doesn’t. When the Officer blows the whistle, Ky takes off without a backward glance, and al at once my new-bright feeling dissolves a little bit.
You have your compact back, I remind myself. Something returned.
Ky disappears completely into the trees ahead of me.
Something lost.
Three minutes later, alone in the woods, I realize that Ky didn’t give me back my compact. It’s something else—I can tel the moment I pul it out of my pocket to make sure it looks al right. The object is similar: gold, a case you can snap open and shut, but it’s definitely not my artifact.
There are letters—N,E,S,W—and an arrow on the inside. It spins and spins and keeps pointing back to me.
I didn’t think that Aberrations could have access to artifacts, but Ky obviously does. Did he give it to me on purpose? By accident? Should I try to give it back or wait until he says something to me?
There are far too many secrets in these woods, I decide. I find myself smiling, polished bright again, ready for the sun.
“Sir? Sir? Lon’s fal en. We think he’s injured.”
The Officer swears under his breath and looks at Ky and me, who are the only two up on the top of the hil except for this boy. “You two stay up here and keep track of who comes when, al right?” The Officer gives me the datapod and, before I can say anything, he disappears back into the forest with the boy.
I think about tel ing Ky that we need to exchange artifacts, but before I say the words, something stops me. For some reason I want to hold on to the mysterious spinning arrow in its gold case. Just for another day or two.
“What are you doing?” I ask him instead. His hand moves, making shapes and curves and lines in the grass that seem familiar.
His blue eyes flash up to me. “I’m writing.”
Of course. That’s why the marks look familiar. He is writing in an old-fashioned, curved kind of writing, like the script on my compact. I’ve seen samples of it before but I don’t know how to do it. No one does. Al we can do is type. We could try to imitate the figures, but with what? We don’t have any of the old tools.